Between Scylla and Charybdis
by Glitter Freeze
Summary: There is no lesser evil. It's a delicate balance, no matter what you choose you end up in the gutter, begging for your life.


The misery of one man is another one's pleasure. Perhaps that is true or the abuse had another explanation. Bitterness, death of a soul, the decay of a mind, poor judgment, though those were merely excuses. Bitterness was logical. Souls die every second of every day; Isaac found that out at a young age, too fragile to understand why whatever higher power exists would take someone so precious to him just like that. In the blink of an eye the rise and fall of his mother's chest turned into an endless stillness, all until her lifeless corpse lie six feet under. That was all he remembered of her, the sudden stillness of her body and panic that overcame him. Now, all he had were old faded photographs and regret. Isaac was too young to do anything about it, to save her, to even try. He regretted not remembering, he regretted not knowing and now he regretted looking and being so much like her. His father told him that the resemblance was uncanny a while back, then with a warm smile on his face, but now only with a scowl as he beat him brutally and carelessly.

"Why was I born in this hell? Had I known...?" What would have Isaac done, had he known his life would turn out being this way. To live in the misery of a lost family was enough to break you. He had no one. His father was a sadistic tyrant at best. His mother bones and his brother _—_ flesh and battle scars, they would remain forever lost in the whirlwind that was the Lahey family. And Isaac would forever take the blame for crimes he did not commit. Was being born a crime, was being quiet and weak a crime. It was only a human thing, when one's body is too weak to fight back against someone, who had once been a part of your heart and one of your heroes. It was a lie, a sham and a mockery now. The body can take the pain, until it shuts down and cannot endure anymore. However, the soul's internal cuts and bruises, the marks of a miserable and useless life remain. The soul is damaged.

Isaac had considered his options once upon a time. Suicide, running away or taking a path that consisted of crime, because even prison wasn't a hell worse than "home", were few of his options, but those were a coward's ways out and Isaac was no coward. Back when his father was still competent and his brother still alive Isaac had learned that men are strong and they should remain bodies of steel until they are broken by someone with much more power, until they die a miserable death. And not even then does a man wither under the pressure of his agony. Cowards are not accepted into the Lahey family. Men of steel and women of love and tenderness is what the Laheys stand for, what they used to stand for. Now all they face is misery and a hopeless existence, too scared to die and too damn brave and stubborn to try to end themselves, Isaac and his father just face one disaster after another. They used to support each other, but now they stand between Scylla and Charybdis, wondering if the whirlpool of agony will swallow them up or if the monster that is grief will kill their fragile bodies and eat their essence for lunch. There is no lesser evil. It's a delicate balance, no matter what you choose you end up in the gutter, begging for your life.

It's funny how the graveyard has become a place of solace. It's the howl of the dogs, the silence of the dead, the ability to hear your own heartbeat and pulse echo. It's the stillness that Isaac despises, yet welcomes like an old friend. The sound of the leaves rustling is terrifying, but more comforting than the sounds Isaac hears while trapped between four walls in his room. That is where fear and torture lies, where his hands shake and his eyes open at the slightest of sounds, the creaking of floorboards. The whisper of the wind, the stutter of the leaves and the dance of the shadows holds beauty to a broken boy, only when the sound is gentle, only when there is no need to fear the storm. It is only when he is far away from shackles and confines, that nature works its magic and breaks the spell of misery. At night it is as though the sheets are vines, making their way around his neck, slowly, murderously, agony and pain are never foreign and dreams are always nightmares of pain. Silence is fear, yet silence is comfort. It depends on your state of mind and your location. Silence should be fear out in the open and welcomed when inside, under the sheets, safe and protected. Home is where the soul should be at peace. Alas peace is long gone. This is war. And Isaac is not going to be the victim. He will be the rebel. The phoenix, which rises from the ashes of a broken home, will prevail.

"I grew up loved, I live pained. I live as a shadow of myself. A mere shell of myself. I am resilient, I am steel. I will learn to hold this power. I will learn to heal these wounds. I will rise and I will not fall." If only he could tell his father that, but the fear is too strong, the urge to fight back will never be as strong as the fear. If the words ever roll off his tongue, all that could save him would be the speed of a gazelle, which Isaac does not possess. He dares not say anything, for his life is at risk, if the desire to rebel overcomes the desire to survive. One day, though his father would pay. Maybe the hours spent in the freezer had made Isaac coldblooded. Now is not time for compromise. It is a time for strength, mental and physical.


End file.
